The Future is Ours to Own
by McEvoyer
Summary: Established Olicity. Just a rather fluffy one-shot! Felicity runs into a spot of bother when she tries to get past the security desk at QC.


She was late.

No, she was more than late.

It was his fault really; how was she supposed to do anything when he was so…_distracting?_ So _very _distracting.

She shook the memories – as vivid as they were – from her mind as she strode through the mighty doors of Queen's Consolidated, angling her over-sized handbag toward her face as she searched it for her ID badge. Stuffing a bunch of receipts into her mouth to get a better view of the items – seriously, what didn't she have in her bag? – she eventually pulled out the object of her search, hooking it around her head as she headed toward the security desk.

"ID, Miss?" the burly guard, whose shirt looked like it was about to explode off him at any second, asked. His eyes perused her from top to bottom, as if desperately looking for something incriminating to catch her on. He was clearly new to the company, so eager to prove himself and for that, Felicity obliged, pulling at her badge with a bright smile.

The intent with which he studied it was impressive. She waited patiently. Well, as patiently as she could considering she was beyond late now and Isabel was going to rip her to shreds. Oh well.

"I'm just gonna have to run your name through the computer to be sure," the guard finally said, scratching the top of his head.

"Is that really necessary? I really have to get to my office," Felicity argued gently. She _never _had this much trouble getting through security before – everyone knew who she was and come on, all newbies should be at least filled in on her status within the company.

He grunted, his heavy fingers assaulting the keyboard. "Standard procedure, Miss. Won't take too long."

With a sigh, she flit her gaze all over the place, taking note of the comings and goings and trying very hard not let her mind drift to the…activities that occupied her morning. It was a much taller task than she originally thought. Felicity's mind was an active one, constantly hopping from one thought to the next.

A cough dragged her from her dreamy haze. "I'm sorry but there's no record of a Felicity Smoak working here."

Before she knew what she was doing, an incredulous laugh escaped her lips, her ponytail bouncing as her body shook. "You're joking, right? Felicity Smoak, head of the IT Department and Oliver Queen's EA? I've been working here for eight years! Okay, so I might have missed a few weeks here and there but the majority of my adult life has been spent in this building with Mr Queen – and not in _that _way, just in general. Oh, this is ridiculous!" she exclaimed, getting flustered. Clearly she wasn't a fan of being refused from places. Her 21st birthday told her that much; four club refusals and a _lot _of red wine later didn't make for the best ego the next morning. "I really need to get to my office."

With that, she shuffled around the man in her heels – why did she insist on wearing her new ones that were far too high for a morning-slash-afternoon race? – and her cheeks flushed from her outburst.

But wide, burly man was quicker than she anticipated and his hand caught her wrist before she could fully get out of his reach. So close. "Hold on there, missy."

"Missy?! Excuse me but-"

"Hey, what's going on over here?"

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Stan stalking over to them. A security guard at QC for about five years, Felicity had gotten to know Stan pretty well; even so much as to know how old his kids were and where he took his annual vacations.

"Stan, thank God," she half-giggled, pushing her glasses up self-consciously. "Can you please tell…" she trailed off, gesturing to the newbie for his name.

His eyes widened. "Oh, Frank," he sputtered, pointing to his chest as though his name was emblazoned on his shirt. Felicity shot him an appreciative smile.

"Right," she continued. "Can you please tell Frank that I am Felicity Smoak and that I do, in fact, work here?" She gazed up at him expectantly, only flinching slightly when she felt her phone go off in her pocket. Without checking it she just knew it was Oliver. _He _probably had no trouble getting past security; then again, he was Oliver Queen and the CEO so obviously he'd be able to strut into the lobby, flash one of his stupidly irresistible smirks and travel up to his office without a care in the world. But one would think after 8 years of practically being sewn to his hip that she'd be treated with the same amount of respect.

Not that she was bitter about this little incident.

Not at all…

Stan had kind eyes; the sort of ones a loving grandfather would have. "You know I would Felicity – and you _know_ I would – but I'm afraid good ol' Frank here is right. No one by the name Felicity Smoak works in this building."

Okay this was getting ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. There was not one bit of shred of truth in this, and she was 85% sure she wasn't fired – she couldn't say she was completely certain because there was that one time when Isabel actually did say, or rather, screeched the words "You're fired!" at her but always her knight in shining armour, Oliver swept in heroically and resolved the issue before Isabel's coffee went cold. No, no, Oliver definitely wouldn't allow for anything like that happening again. Something else was afoot here…

Instinctively, her hand clenched around the strap of her bag and her mouth hung open, ready to retort, but Stan's calm and cool hand came up to stop her in her tracks. Frank's eyes shifted from one person to the other, his whole body tense like he was on the cusp of springing into some kind of action.

Felicity huffed in exasperation. "Stan, what is going on?"

A knowing grin broke out on his face, his hand reaching into his back pocket to retrieve what looked to be an ID badge. He presented it to her before her barrage of questioning.

He knew her too well.

"I was supposed to hand this to you when you came in first thing this morning but since you were late, I never got the chance. And poor Frank here," he clapped him hard on the shoulder, "obviously didn't get the memo. We're terribly sorry about the inconvenience, Mrs Queen."

She froze, her eyes dipping to read the name on the badge. And there in black capital letters were the words **Felicity Queen**.

Her heart fluttered.

It's not like it was the first time she had seen or heard her name – her _new _name – but it still caused her pause.

"Felicity Queen," she breathed so quietly it was barely audible over the bustle of the area.

They had discussed the change in surname a number of times; Oliver asserted that she didn't have to jettison Smoak in favour of Queen just because she was marrying him, even if the press would have a field day, jumping at the chance to use it against them – 'Already Trouble in Paradise? Queen Name Goes up in Smoak' she imagined the headline would look, though it'd probably be something more inventive – but Felicity was adamant in her decision. Nothing would make her happier than for her to take Oliver's name. Was it a little silly that she wanted a constant reminder that they were together, hers and his forever?

Yeah, it totally was.

But whatever, she didn't care.

And that month-long honeymoon that they had just returned from was more than enough proof that Oliver felt the exact same way as she did.

"Mr Queen sent in a request last week that we might change your name in the company's server so that everything would be in order upon your return," Stan explained, quirking an eyebrow at her wonderstruck expression. "He said he cleared it with you…?"

"What? Oh yeah, he did. It's cleared – more than cleared. This is…wow, this is…different," she remarked, beaming at the two men. Stan appeared amused. Poor Frank was bewildered. "I am the Queen," she slammed her eyes shut, "_no_, not _the _Queen, just _a _Queen. I am a Queen. Whoa I never thought I'd hear myself say that… Not the point. Sorry."

Stan leaned forward, his chest rumbling with laughter. "Felicity?" She met his gaze. "Judging by the buzzing on your phone, I think you're needed in your office."

Oh crap, she was late!

"Right, yes, okay." With haste, she removed the badge from around her neck with her old name and slung the new one over. Huh, how strangely symbolic. "I better get going. Thank you both." A kind smile at the men and she was on her way…_finally_.

"Have a good day, Mrs Queen," she heard Stan say, his slightly Southern lilt floating through the air.

Once again, she felt herself grinning like a fool. _Oh I will_, she thought blissfully.

The ding of the elevator snapped her into work mode, her fingers ready to do whatever Arrow stuff was necessary and whatever QC business she had to deal with.

When the doors slid open, Felicity was met with a relieved Oliver. Once the man caught sight of her, his whole body relaxed, a goofy smile breaking out from his usually stoic face.

"Hey," he greeted warmly, reaching out to pull her into his arms. Of course, she happily obliged, clutching him flush to her. "Where have you been?" he inquired. "I've been calling your cell like crazy."

"Sorry, I had a little trouble at the security desk."

Oliver broke away, his forehead scrunched.

By way of explanation, Felicity toyed with the badge, swinging it from side to side. "Seems like someone has erased Felicity Smoak from the system."

"Oh really? I wonder who could have done that?" He leaned down to kiss her sweetly.

"I wonder," she hummed, grasping at the lapels of his jacket and kissing him again.

"For the record though," he moved so that his mouth brushed the shell of her ear, "Felicity Queen has a _much _nicer ring to it." The blonde shuddered under his hot breath.

"It really does-"

A cleared throat yanked them from their little bubble. "Mr Queen," Isabel sniped. "I assume you're going to be joining our meeting promptly?"

He gave the woman one of his CEO smiles. "Of course, I was just greeting Mrs Queen."

Isabel rolled her eyes.

Oliver's grin widened to the point of lunacy.

Felicity blushed.

Yes, today was going to be a good day.


End file.
